


drifting

by vampyrekat



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally, Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Can y'all tell I have an exam tonight?, F/M, Gen, Happy two fics in one day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:52:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampyrekat/pseuds/vampyrekat
Summary: “Vaganov is insufferable,” Dmitry informed Anya moodily over dinner, pressing an ice pack to his face. “They won’t even let us try and drift, we’re stuck sparring all day, like that is going to fix his shitty attitude.” He speared something that had once been a vegetable and was now a steamed pile of mush.“Is this because he bruised your face?” Anya said, aiming desperately for sympathetic and missing.“No,” Dmitry said bitterly, pointing the vegetable mush at her. “This is because they want to take Vlad off the jaeger and put him in the lab with Lily, and I’m stuck with Vaganov, who --”“Is not Vlad.”“-- isn’t Vlad, yes, Anya.”“You’re an idiot,” Anya informed him bluntly.Obligatory Gleb/Anya Pacific Rim AU where they find out just how similar they are, and just how much history they share.





	drifting

“Vaganov is insufferable,” Dmitry informed Anya moodily over dinner, pressing an ice pack to his face. “They won’t even let us try and drift, we’re stuck sparring all day, like that is going to fix his shitty attitude.” He speared something that had once been a vegetable and was now a steamed pile of mush.

“Is this because he bruised your face?” Anya said, aiming for sympathetic.

“No,” Dmitry said bitterly, pointing the vegetable mush at her. “This is because they want to take Vlad off the jaeger and put him in the lab with Lily, and I’m stuck with Vaganov, who --”

“Is not Vlad.”

“-- isn’t Vlad, yes, Anya.” Dmitry ate the vegetable mush angrily. He looked mussed and upset and bruised, and Anya had managed to watch the sparring today and had drawn her own conclusions.

“You’re an idiot,” Anya informed him bluntly. “Gle - _Vaganov_ is like an open book when he fights; he telegraphs each strike because he doesn’t want to hurt you. You’re just not seeing it.”

Dmitry froze, fork halfway to his mouth, and stared at her for a moment. “And how does he do that?”

“He’s more conservative when he dodges and then he swings wide when he comes for you,” Anya said reluctantly, riding the annoyance with Dmitry and trying to ignore that she had already assessed both men’s fighting style. She wasn’t a pilot, but after so many weeks of the two being thrown together, she had resolved to help Dmitry figure it out -- and she was right. Gleb all but telegraphed his motions. “He’s trying to give you an out, and you’re focused on hitting him back. He wasn’t aiming for your face, by the way. You ducked.”

Dmitry set his fork down and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Anya asked, flatly, and Dmitry gestured impatiently for her to stand too. She did, slowly, and only because she had finished her dinner and had no reason to stay longer. “What’s going on, Dmitry?”

“Just -- come with me, I’ve got an idea.”

It took a good thirty minutes for Dmitry's mysterious plan to make itself evident; Dmitry insisted on Anya sparring with him in the meantime. He ignored her protests that she wasn't a fighter and pressed forward relentlessly, until Anya could sense buried memories trying to rise up. She couldn't imagine why she remembered how to fight, but the curl of her fingers around the staff was familiar, and she began to see the openings Dmitry left, the shots that Gleb no doubt took. It was obvious, and she was unnerved, but she swung for Dmitry's shoulder --

“Sudayev,” Vaganov said flatly, and Anya dropped the wooden sparring sword with a jolt. Dmitry picked it up and twirled it.

“Vaganov,” he greeted, then pushed the weapon back into Anya’s hands. “I’ve found a new candidate.”

“Anya.” Gleb raised an eyebrow at her with a confused smile, although his voice was gentler than when he spoke to Dmitry. It didn’t mean much, though; he and Dmitry weren’t gentle with each other, and he sounded sharper when he added, “You can’t seriously --”

“She’s been watching for weeks,” Dmitry said testily. “I’m curious.”

“And you want me to referee?”

“No. I want you to spar with her.” Dmitry grinned, handsome and rougish in the extreme. Neither of them seemed impressed. “Maybe you can take each other down a peg.”

Gleb gave him a look that hovered somewhere near disappointed and exhausted, and Anya bit back her laugh. He was expressive outside of sparring; it was a wonder Dmitry hadn’t picked up on that yet. Maybe Dmitry simply didn’t care to. Gleb hesitated for only a moment before nodding sharply and taking the staff with a serious look. He was always pretending to be more serious than he was, like he had something to prove, and that was probably why he’d trained so hard at sparring and piloting and anything they let him try. Anya stood opposite him, almost a foot shorter and waifishly thin, and wondered what he knew about her — and how much he’d guessed wrong. She’d always banked on being underestimated.

After a beat, she swung for his head and at the last second switched to aiming for his knee; Gleb stepped back smoothly and brought his own staff down to block hers without hesitation. She shoved it off, taking a step forward - light as air, as a dancer - and met his staff as it swung towards her hip. He was telegraphing, although by the look in his eye he wouldn’t intentionally do it for much longer. Anya danced back, watching his footwork, and then lunged forward.

Gleb sidestepped and brought his staff up to hit her hip with a resounding thunk of wood on bone, and he winced.

“I’m sorry, I —“

Anya stabbed him in the thigh and gave him a smile. “Do you apologize to the kaiju in the simulator too?”

He seemed thrown for a moment, then laughed and settled into a sparring stance again, although there was the shadow of a smile still on his face. “They’re not as surprising.”

Anya didn’t have time to parse that before he stepped forward, several almost dancing steps that alternated aiming high and low and forced her to retreat or be caught. Anya moved back on the balls of her feet, blocking quickly before she dropped to the ground, rolling out of the way and bringing her staff up to hit the back of his knee sharply — or to try to, because he’d dodged and was blocking her staff almost lazily, although the sheen of sweat and the pace of his breath betrayed his stress. Anya took a deep breath and tried to think.

She’d never sparred, except with Dmitry, and that had been informal. She was smaller and faster, but from what she’d seen Gleb was also quick and above all, stubborn. Neither of them would like to lose, and neither of them would let themselves. But he had helped her; he had offered comfort when she was scared and hurt. Anya let the staff tremble in her hand, a obvious sign of weakness, and his eyes widened as he drew back.

“Anya —”

She sprung to her feet and lashed out, only for Gleb to tap her shoulder almost the second she connected with his. They stared at each other a moment, breathing hard, frozen as mirror images of each other. Gleb looked like he’d seen the sun and wasn’t sure what it was.

“That should convince them,” Dmitry said dryly, switching the camera off.

Anya felt more than saw Gleb fix Dmitry with a glare at the same moment she did, and hated that it only made Dmitry’s smirk widen.

**Author's Note:**

> There may or may not be more coming, we shall see if inspiration strikes!
> 
> As ever, follow my tumblr for more updates and writing snippets at [vampyrekatwrites](http://vampyrekatwrites.tumblr.com/). If you want to see my more general fandom side, my Anastasia blog is at [nanasalt](http://nanasalt.tumblr.com/). Feel free to message me! It's what keeps me writing.


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